


Between the Mountains

by grahamisms



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, countryside doctor hannibal lecter, rodeo cowboy will graham, sexy sexy cowboys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamisms/pseuds/grahamisms
Summary: Rodeo superstar Will Graham is Jack Crawford's biggest asset, but everything changes when a new face comes to town. Suddenly, people start disappearing and reappearing in gruesome murder scenes, but no one suspects their new countryside doctor to be at fault for it all. Will Graham spirals into a life and death game between him and a doctor turned cannibal—if he survives, will his heart survive too? Or will Hannibal Lecter devour everything in his path?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Between the Mountains

The Rocky Mountains look as if they’re on fire as Hannibal Lecter pulls up to Crawford’s ranch. The sunset makes everything look as if it’s ablaze and, for a moment, Hannibal can appreciate the beauty around him. It’s much different than the Europe he’s used to and he’s not particularly happy with the pay cut being a small down doctor brings, but at least the beauty is still there. There’s something breathtaking about the way the mountains loom over the ranch. His Bently looks severely out of place next to the row of pickup trucks—some antique and some new. Then again, Hannibal Lecter knows he looks out of place in his suit and tie.

It doesn’t bother him. Never has.

He steps out of the Bently with a grimace. The muddy roads have done hell to the Bently’s sides. The mud has sprayed up the sides and coated the tires. It’s with a displeased sigh that he notes the mud will likely ruin his nice, patent leather shoes. They’ll at the very least need a good shining when he gets home—but Hannibal is on call twenty-four seven, so who knows when that will be..

“Thank God you’re here.” Jack Crawford approaches him with a look full of worry. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, which hides the greying of his hair, Hannibal presumes. He hasn’t seen Jack since the last time he watched a rodeo at the behest of a past lover—that was twenty years ago when Hannibal was a much younger, more patient man. Crawford doesn’t have the body he used to have—disappointing, really. The man had been something to look at back in his prime, but it’s not ever something Hannibal would dream of commenting on. That would be rude, after all. “I’ve got my rodeo superstar laid up—I think it’s either dislocated or broken. Oh, he’s got a nasty cut on his cheek too. Horse hoof nicked him. Might need stitches.” 

“Why don’t we leave the diagnosis to me, Mister Crawford?” Hannibal smiles pleasantly and procures his case of supplies from the passenger’s seat. 

“Just Jack is fine. My wife only calls me that when she’s angry, you know.” He chuckles, albeit nervously as he leads Hannibal toward a round pen. A chestnut horse paces nervously on the inside of the pen. She’s lathered in sweat, foam dripping from her mouth as she snakes her neck down low. Hannibal knows nothing about horses, but even he can tell that this one must be mean, with the way her ears are pinned. A man that appears to be in his mid thirties sits on a mounting block on the outside of the pen. The left side of his face is covered in blood and dirt. His left arm is hanging uselessly—it’s a very obvious dislocation. Jack is right. He will need stitches.

“And you must be Will Graham.” Hannibal would shake his hand, but considering the fact that Will Graham looks to be in pain, he saves the pleasantries for later. “So you took a nasty fall?” 

“It’s rodeo. It’s what I do.” Will doesn’t meet his gaze. He doesn’t have to, as far as Hannibal is concerned, he’d be happy to look down at the man for days. He’s got the prettiest blue eyes and curly, dark brown hair. The type of face that Hannibal wouldn’t mind drawing—an intimate thought that he holds at the back of his mind.

“So is your arm always like that?” There’s a hint of amusement to Hannibal’s tone.

Jack glances from Hannibal to Will, noting the odd tension that seems to make the air thicker than concrete. “Right...I’ll take care of Ginger.” He pats his hand on the rail of the pen. The horse, apparently Ginger, snaps her teeth. Jack gives her a stern look. “Will’s house is on the property. It would probably be easier to treat him inside, wouldn’t it, Doctor?”

Hannibal nods with the faintest of smiles. “That would be optimal. Will, if you wouldn’t mind showing me to your home?”

Will answers with a grunt as he gets up. The pain is written all over his face as he begins to walk toward a one story ranch style home. It’s old looking, but well maintained, and Hannibal has to wonder if the so called rodeo star takes care of it himself. The shutters look like they have fresh paint on them—a deep, blood red. Now that’s a color that Hannibal Lecter can appreciate.

Will opens the door and they are both immediately assaulted by four dogs. Hannibal does not expect Will Graham to smile, but when he does he cannot help but feel some sort of way. It’s a crooked little smile. A cute, endearing thing. “This is Laurence.” He motions toward an English Pointer with one eye. The dog barks happily, immediately bounding over to sniff at Hannibal’s case. “Noodle.” An ancient looking Pitbull with eyes full of cataracts. “Claire.” A blonde Chihuahua that appears far too small even for a Chihuahua. “And, last but not least, Indica.” A Chocolate Lab with only three legs.

“Did you adopt them all?” Hannibal notes how Will’s eyes light up with joy when talking about his pets. It’s sweet. 

“Laurence I bought from a friend, but all the others I’ve adopted over the years. I’d like to get more.” He grins and ruffles Noodle’s ears.

“Before you decide on adopting more, let’s get you fixed up first, hm?” Hannibal motions toward the sofa where Claire is resting. “Please, sit. Allow me to take care of you, Mister Graham.” 

Will’s smile fades and he hesitates. “I...don’t like it when people touch me.” 

Hannibal nods, understanding. “Then I will touch you as little as possible, but you must understand, we at least need to relocate your arm. The longer you wait, the more difficult it will be. And if you wait too long you might need surgery.”

That seems to be enough convincing, because Will nods before sitting down on the sofa. Claire makes a small, happy noise at the sight of her master settling down. The other three dogs begin to make themselves comfortable on the sofa as well until the thing is comically packed. Hannibal sets down his case next to the sofa. “This will hurt, Mister Graham. I’d advise taking some Tylenol for the pain after—perhaps smoking some marijuana, if you have some.” He assues, since he has a dog named Indica, that Will is an avid user of weed. 

“I’ve got both.” Will’s reply is short as he grunts. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Very well.” It takes but a split second for Hannibal to relocate the arm, but he can hear a low, deep hiss from Will as his whole body tenses. Hannibal cannot help the way warmth pools in him—it’s not the fact that Will is in pain that fills him with desire, it’s the very damnable noises he makes! They are obscene! Thankfully, Hannibal is an expert in misdirection, and his face remains neutral as he takes a step back. “Now, I’d like to do something about that cut on your face.” Will tenses again and Hannibal raises a hand. “It at the very least needs to be cleaned, Mister Graham. And I want to prescribe you some antibiotics. It’s best to be safe.” What it really needs is stitches, but he’ll work up his grumpy client to that. 

“...Fine.” Will’s baby blue eyes are full of mistrust. Hannibal can’t help but to wonder who hurt Will Graham to make him this mistrustful, this averse to even the most medical of touches. “I can wash my face off though.” 

“Of course, Mister Graham.” 

“Will. You can call me Will.”


End file.
